


The weight of the world is not for just one to bear

by acarrotcakehater



Series: We are Batman AU [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DC Comics
Genre: Angst, Graphic violence tw, Whump, and half me making an au, batman needs the family, blades tw, blood tw, hallucinogens tw, i think if you look at the series title, joker mention tw, just whump from october, not whumptober though, the family needs the family, this is half me making fun of dark batman, this is what happens without the family, you'll know what its gonna be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26991547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acarrotcakehater/pseuds/acarrotcakehater
Summary: (AU) Instead of letting people into his family, Bruce forces them out before they can enter, this is what happens after years of this. Just a few weeks ago, he went through what may be his greatest failure. The League of Assassins now knows of his existence as well. This will be his final night.
Series: We are Batman AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969984
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The weight of the world is not for just one to bear

Years upon years of driving people out of his life have led him right here. He drove a grieving child out of his life before he could get the chance to enter, he watched helplessly as The Joker brutally murdered a teenager, a teenager who just weeks before that day, also made an attempt to help him. A few years after that, some other kid tracked him down and tried to offer his help, and he said no, he watched the kid cry, but at this point after everything he saw, he knew it was best. After that, some other person offered help, she told him that her father was a murderer and told him where he’d strike next, he never heard from her again. The last straw though, was when a girl fleeing from the League of Assassins requested his aid, but he was busy, and they were just a myth. He watched as they struck their blades through her heart, and as she took her final breath, he felt such a feeling of regret that he hadn’t felt in years. That was a few weeks ago, but the bat can’t rest, not even to rethink his decisions, and certainly not for regret.

Today, just like any other day, he awoke surrounded by the nearly empty manor walls, they once held pictures of his late family, but the frames shattered long ago, and he can’t get himself to look at them anymore. The manor always had an eeriness to it, but now more than ever before, it was pristine, yet hollow, Alfred, as old as he was, still kept everything up as well as he could. Just like any other day, he ate his breakfast, he looked over whatever was important to keep his business afloat, all that mattered was that he had the money to continue his crusade.

After that, he’d go back to the cave, where he spent most of his time now, and get into the suit, run calibrations, and practice, all day, he practices because he knows that he is the only thing keeping the city from chaos. Without him, there would be nobody left to hold The Joker back, he couldn’t let him kill anyone else, not again, not ever again.

He practices for hours, all day in fact, stopping only to eat what he needed to, and then getting right back to punching dummies. With each punch he practically destroys the dummies, whether it’s due to his strength, or that they’re made cheap because he buys them in bulk, he doesn’t care, so long as he stays strong, and keeps punching. The sun starts to set, so he prepares to go for the night, he tells Alfred he’ll be back by sunrise, like he always does, but they both know that there will be a day where he’s wrong, what will happen when the day comes? Nothing, because he can’t let that day come. He enters the batmobile, and drives away from the cave another time, just like he always does.

Upon entering the city limits, he gets out of the car, and rides his grapple-gun to the rooftops, its better from the rooftops, more personal, easier to stop everything before it happens. As he climbs the skyline on his search for a viewpoint, someone attempts to catch him off guard. Ha. As if he’d let that happen. The brawl was short but sweet, he knew just when to stop, and when he was done they were laying down on the rough rooftop with blood coming out of their nose, they’ll be fine, someone will find them. He continues to climb, and to his surprise, these attempts don’t seem to stop, each one more elaborate than the last, finally he had a goddamn challenge. He’d win of course, he always does, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t come out bruised. Hell, one of them made him bleed for once, but he didn’t stop because of that, he can’t let himself stop.

God, only half an hour into the night and he already has some cuts, this night could actually prove interesting. He reaches the highest building near him, but he can’t see anything, for once, there are no criminals running amok in the alleyways. As he attempts to find something, anything, to occupy his time, his wish is heard, and an assassin strikes from behind, he slips up, the blade pierces his flesh, not too deep, but it’s noticeable, he grabs the assassin’s hand as they remove the blade and throws them down on the floor, causing just enough damage that they won’t be getting up for a bit. He rests for a brief while, treating his wound, and preparing for his next encounter. As he leaves, he recognizes the uniform the assassin was wearing, the same uniform as the assassins who killed that girl, the ones she said were with the League of Assassins.

45 minutes in and he’s already danced with what may as well be death itself, god, this night will be tougher than normal. He can’t risk anything else, if these assassins will keep following him throughout the night, then so be it. The bat hasn’t fallen yet, why would tonight be any different? It won’t be. The first hour is passed now, nine more until the sun rises. In the midst of the calm, the assassins strike once more, this time as a group, five against one, too bad for them. He disarms one of them, cuts the first one just deep enough that it’ll hurt, he goes for another, they circle him, he drops a smoke bomb, the cowl shows him their last positions, he takes them out one by one, they won’t be getting up for a while. As he walks away, a sixth assassin appears, this one wearing lighter gear than those prior, they’re smart too, their first goal was to tire the knight. They run circles around him, shooting two knives covered with an oily substance out of their hands as they do, one for each of the bat’s hands, that is, if they hadn’t missed. As he dodged blade after blade, they continued to run around him, and as he started to tire, they showed no signs of it.

This duet went on for a while, eventually, the assassin grew bored of this, and so did Bruce, so the assassin finally closed in on him, with him attempting to catch them and throw them in the opposite direction. He did attempt, but right before his hands closed on their charging shoulders, they threw one final blade, this one landing right next to his heart, with whatever the oil was now entering his bloodstream. As he collapses on the rooftop, the assassin tosses the bleeding bat onto the road below. Battered, broken, and covered in his own blood, he glimpses at his surroundings, and sees that he quickly became surrounded by a crowd, a single GCPD officer attempts to get the witnesses to back away, but the crowd only grows. 

Slowly, the assassin removes the blade from his chest, and soon after, his mask. The Batman, revealed to the public, to simply be a sad, broken man. As the blood flows out from his chest, the assassin, removing their own mask, prepares to plunge their blade deeper into his heart.Though his vision is fading, the knight looks at who appears to be the girl murdered by the League of Assassins, an impossibility, but that doesn’t stop the knight from screaming apologies for what he did. But it’s as if the assassin cannot hear him, or are indifferent to it all, as they don’t hesitate to lower the blade into him. As the blade dives in, and out, and in again, repeatedly, the pain worse each time, the one formerly known as the bat continues to fade. And eventually, in front of public eyes, though their ears deafened by the screams, confused as to why the bat was apologizing to a masked assassin, the bat is dead, and Bruce Wayne went with him.

It wasn’t long after that when the funeral for one Bruce Wayne was held, but despite that, it was a funeral for the Batman. With Alfred watching as the person who may as well be his son, is remembered not for who was, but for the mask he wore. The public may have attended, but Alfred was the only one attending who truly knew him.

The man is dead, but the symbol of the bat still lives.


End file.
